


Autobot Sleeper Agent

by SilverRayan



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mild Kink, Moresomes, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRayan/pseuds/SilverRayan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream was never a Decepticon. He was an undercover agent who has finally had the chance to come home. It is widely known that seekers are rather sexual, and it's been a long time since he's been able to interface with someone who didn't want to kill him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Jazz is amused. And possibly homicidal

It was supposed to have been a regular battle. The Decepticreeps had come up with a new weapon, and had attempted to unleash it on an unsuspecting power plant. The Autobots had managed to intercept them before they could cause any real damage, and the normal battle had ensued. Somewhere along the line, however, Megatron had gotten smart. Jazz figured that the hulking mech had realized that the Bots had gotten cocky, used to the “ultimate weapon” being destroyed right away, and then kicking the Decepticons’ collective afts all the way back to their underwater base. So it had come as a complete surprise when Megatron had unveiled another Weapon of Doom™. The TIC had casually searched for his sleeper agent, wondering why the mech hadn’t alerted him to this new development. The startled look in the mech’s faux red optics said that he hadn’t known anything about it. It didn’t take long for either of them to realize that the mech’s cover had likely been compromised. He hadn’t been called on it, though, so Jazz signalled him to do nothing. The sleeper didn’t like it, but obeyed his commander’s order.

The weapon was actually very clever. Instead of just blowing them all to bits it released some type of gas that invaded neural systems, but it targeted only specific models. The Cons were aiming to take prisoners this time, and the completely unheard of tactic threw the Autobots off. Many recovered quickly, but their hesitation had cost them precious seconds. By the time they managed to reorganize themselves the gases had already been deployed.

Certain models, such as the minibots were unaffected, but many of the larger models and all of the notable fighters who were within range began to feel the effect almost immediately. Optimus Prime and Skyfire were taken out, the former having inhaled more than enough to knock his systems completely offline. They were obvious targets, as Prime was the leader and Skyfire was the Autobots’ strongest aerial fighter. It came as no surprise when Megatron dragged the unconscious Prime away; that he took Skyfire too was a surprise. Silverbolt tried to go after his friend, but the gas made him woozy; his brothers got him back on the ground, far behind the front lines. The Datsuns too were taken out, as the tacticians (one of which was the SIC) and gunner were very valuable. Luckily the twins, who had had been far enough back to avoid the first release, were quick on their pedes and had managed to drag Bluestreak back behind the lines. Inferno was able to keep the Cons from nabbing Smokescreen. Prowl, unfortunately, had been locked in hand to hand combat with Soundwave and was captured. Jazz himself was the last one to fall to the noxious weapon. He was dragged from the relative safety of the Autobots towards Megatron. He had just enough time to realize that they were the hostages before darkness consumed him.

So now he found himself, along with the Prime, Skyfire and Prowl, trapped in the Decepticon brig. Prime, Prowl and himself he could understand, as they were the top three in the command chain, but why Skyfire? Good air support he may be, but the mech was a pacifist and a scientist. Why would the cons want... blue optics narrowed. The shuttle had a friend among the cons. They were going to use him to force the mech to reveal himself. Perhaps his agent’s cover had been blown. This was not good.

He didn’t have much time to ponder this, as heavy pedesteps approached their cells. Moments later Motormaster and his crew came into view. The large semi nodded to the guard, and the energon bars disappeared.

“Alright maggots, come with me. Lord Megatron wants to have a word with you.” The Stunticon leader grabbed Prime by the arm, and the large Autobot went with him quietly. The cuffs on their arms and pedes prevented them from doing much anyway. Drag Strip and Wildrider flanked Skyfire, who looked bored by their intimidation attempts. They all knew that the giant shuttle could flatten them if he really wanted, just as they knew that he never would. That left Dead End, who made a bee line for Prowl, and Breakdown. Jazz smirked. Everyone knew about the Decepticon lambo’s paranoia. Deciding that he had nothing better to do, the Porsche fixed his unwavering gaze on the blue and white Lamborghini.

“Stop staring at me!” By the time they made it to the throne room Breakdown was a shivering mess.

“Stopitstopitstopit! Why are you looking at me? Make him stop!” Jazz was amused. He could tell Prowl and Optimus were too, despite both of them being to dignified to react. Prowl’s doorwings did twitch in a manner that his friend had once told him meant youarecruel/amused. That happened a lot around Jazz. Skyfire still looked bored.

The first thing Jazz noticed when they entered the room was the sheer amount of Decepticons present. It seemed as though every Earth bound con was in the room. He quickly began strategizing possible escape routes. The problem with this was that they were all standing around a large semicircle in the center of the room, and they were blocking the exits. The ring itself almost looked like a training ring. The back wall had no exits, and formed one side of the ring, while the mechs formed a half circle that extended from one end of said wall to the other. The semicircle parted slightly, allowing the Autobots to see that Megatron and Starscream stood at its center. Both were highly polished, gleaming in the dim lights. Something big was about to go down, and Jazz had a good idea what it was.

“Welcome, Autobots. I suppose you are wondering why you are here, instead of being blasted to bits on the battlefield.” The four remained silent. Megatron continued, “Lately we have found an increase in...boredom among the soldiers. This miserable dust ball has nothing to offer us beyond energon and so we are forced to make our own entertainment. You four have been lucky enough to be chosen for our first gladiator match. Two of you shall face Starscream and I, while the others face whichever Decepticon claims them. And, in the spirit of the Roman gladiators, who were the only worthwhile things this planet had ever produced, you will face us unarmed.” The crowd surrounding them jeered. “Prime, you will be my opponent. Starscream, choose yours.” Red optics trailed over the remaining three. They skipped over Prowl, lingered for a moment on Skyfire, before falling on Jazz.

“The Porsche.”

“Very well.” The warlord did not show it but he was disappointed. He wanted his SIC to choose the shuttle. Shockwave’s last report had been troubling. The cyclops had reviewed the Decepticons’ performance in recent battles, and when the results had shown that Starscream was at the root of all failed missions he began to look further back. The data he had compiled showed that since his inception into the Decepticon fold he had caused problems. Minor at first, but they seemed to increase to the point where he decided he would take over the Decepticons. In fact he only times a mission hadn’t failed it was because Starscream had done as he had been ordered. He usually only did this when his wingmates were in danger, and he had had to bank off in order to protect them. Shockwave had also found that some of Starscream’s kills had been fabricated. That may have been because of Starscream’s enormous ego, but combined with the other reports it was suspicious. Killing the pacifist would have put an end to the doubts Megatron was forming about his loyalty. Well, the other Autobot would do. A kill is a kill, and it would prove that Starscream, treacherous though he may be, was no Autobot.

Optimus and Jazz stepped into the ring, heads held high. Optimus was tense, though he projected a serene image. Unless some sort of miracle occurred, he couldn’t see a way to get his men out of this alive. Jazz on the other hand was perfectly relaxed. The false con smirked. It wouldn’t be long now. Just one little fight and he could rejoin his brethren, and hopefully kill Megatron while he was at it.

None of the warriors bowed to each other; there was no signal to begin. This was not a match with rules, and the fight would be brutal and dirty, and there was no need for courtesy. Jazz feinted, moving as though to strike the seeker, before veering off in another direction. Starscream followed him. The crowd roared in excitement, eager to see energon shed. Megatron moved towards the Prime, who met him head on. He swung at the smaller mech, but Optimus ducked, aiming a kick at the Decepticon’s midsection. The silver mech danced back with surprising grace, lifting a powerful leg in a sweeping kick, before moving in close to follow it with a punch to the face. Optimus easily avoided the kick, but couldn’t throw himself entirely out of the way of the punch. Silver knuckles grazed his temple, drawing first blood. The other cons were going wild. Megatron smirked. Then he collapsed.

With all optics focused on the leaders’ fight, no one had noticed as Jazz and Starscream slid further into the shadows. Nor did they notice when Starscream powered up his infamous null rays. So it came a surprise when the seeker not only shot his leader in the head, but turned and fired on the crowd of watching soldiers. Jazz wasted no time pulling a backup weapon from his hidden subspace compartment and joined him. Moments later half of the watchers were unconscious, but those who had remained standing had were beginning to get organized. Starscream smiled.

“Time to go.”

\----------

Prime watched in amusement as his mechs gathered for the base wide meeting. The first thing that he had done after they had returned home was head to the medbay to make sure the gas had not had any lasting effect. To Ratchet’s credit, he hadn’t even flinched when Starscream had walking in; he had simply ordered the (ex?) con to get up on a berth and wait his turn. His next priority had been to call this meeting. He wondered if the perverse sense of pleasure he was getting from watching his mechs react to Starscream’s presence meant he had a mild sadistic streak. Megatron had accused him of having one when they were younger. Well, it was unimportant. It was time to begin the meeting.

“Alright, that’s enough.” The glaring optics turned from the seeker to look at their leader, questions clear, though no one said a thing. “Now, most of you recognize our guest. As for the reason behind his presence, I am not entirely sure. Jazz, however, claims that there is a perfectly good explanation for it, so he will explain. I must say, I look forward to hearing it.”

“Thanks Prime,” Jazz said with an easy smile. “Now, y’all prolly don’ know him, or have forgotten, but back when the war began Sentinel appointed me as Head of Ops and I had an interestin mech workin for me. He had been a scientist before the war. Specifically, a social scientist and xenologist, meaning he studied other cultures and how they interacted with each other. We got talkin one day, and he mentioned that from what he had been able to observe before he had joined us, the cons had a completely different culture. ‘Wouldn’t it be neat,’ he said, ‘if we could get someone in there, to study their behaviour? If we knew how they think, then we could plan accordingly.’ Now, it seemed like a good idea, so we presented it to Sentinel Prime, and he got my mech all of the right training. He turned out to be an amazin fighter on top of bein smart, so it was easy to plant him in a batch of Decepticon recruits. We didn’t count on Soundwave’s telepathic abilities though, so he ended up having to totally immerse himself in their ways, instead of just pretendin he had. He ended up having to stay far longer than planned, and when Sentinel was killed most of the mechs who’d known about my agent were killed too. Everyone but Ops forgot who he was. There was no record of him of course, so we were the only ones who knew. Anyway, he eventually managed to work his up to a high position where he could sabotage Megatron. His cover was blown when he helped us escape from the con base. And Prime, I ‘pologize for not tellin you about him, but we figured he’d be safer if no one else knew. If we had told you, then records would have had to been created, and one of Soundwave’s little demons could have found it. So mechs, allow me to introduce special agent Starscream, Ops’ recently recovered deepcover officer.” Dead silence followed Jazz’s words. Skyfire broke it.

“So Red Alert was right. You really haven’t changed at all.” Starscream turned towards his old friend. All optics turned towards him again, watching carefully as he moved towards the shuttle. He tore off the Decepticon insignias as he went, dropping the stickers to the ground and revealing the red paint below. Red optics flickered, before fading into a brilliant aqua color. He paused in front of his much larger friend, slightly unsure. Would Skyfire hate him? He had shot the mech, but he had used his null rays, which were pacifistic weapons, developed to stun life forms found on other worlds without causing lasting harm. Pit, at the low setting they wouldn’t even hurt a human for longer than it took to get away. Skyfire knew that. Still, times had changed. His fears were proven void a moment later when Skyfire reached down and pulled him into a hug, nearly crushing him against hi massive chassis. Starscream pressed closer to his friend, having missed him greatly in the vorns that they had been separated. Skyfire put him back down and stepped back, smiling.

“Welcome back, Star.” The soft smile that lit up his friend’s face was gorgeous. It changed his face from the ruthless Decepticon SIC to the scientist Skyfire remembered.

“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

\-----------

The Autobots had been stunned. It was no secret that Starscream was a good looking mech, but his smile changed him from pretty to gorgeous. Instead of hard, fierce lines he was all soft angles and pretty wings that just begged to be touched. The mechs stood in silence as the two old friends chatted, before both mechs took their leave on the excuse that Skyfire was going to show Star around the base. Once the ‘bots were sure that they were out of audio range whispers broke out.

Many seemed to be off the opinion that despite Jazz’s assurance and the false insignias, the seeker still couldn’t be trusted. Or at least it would be wise to remain cautious around him, in case he really had gone con during his time undercover. There was one group however that disagreed. The aerialbots very discretely left the room before they burst into excited chatter.

“Oh Primus, he’s gorgeous! Did you see his smile?”

“See Silverbolt, he was an Autobot the whole time! Now you can admit you like him too.”

“I wonder if we could get him to fly with us? That would be amazing!” Silverbolt smiled tolerantly as his brothers chattered on about the seeker. He felt a small pang of jealousy towards the former con, but he had to admit that the seeker’s input on their flight patterns and tactics would be invaluable.

‘And he is really good looking.’ That thought made him blush. In truth though, he had always admired the seekers as much as his brothers had, he had just been more aware of how distasteful that idol worship had made them look. Unfortunately, Air Raid noticed the faint color that spread over his cheeks, and cheerfully pointed it out to the rest of them. The rest of the way to their quarters was filled with good natured jabs and Silverbolt’s expense.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. We can ask Starscream to assist us, but only after he has had time to settle in.” His remark was met with a chorus of cheers and groans, and the Concorde smiled fondly as he herded the smaller flyers into their room.

\-----------

“So shouldn’t I have to go though some sort of security check to make sure I’m not spying for the Decepticons or something?” Starscream asked wryly. Skyfire smiled but didn’t answer.

“Normally you would, but seeing as how you are one of Jazz’s agents it would be unwise. He tends to get a bit... touchy when we question the integrity of his teams, as Huffer rather violently found out. Needless to say no one accuses Mirage of being a spy anymore. You shouldn’t have any problems.” Both flyers turned to see Red Alert coming up the corridor behind them. Skyfire smiled.

“Star, I believe you’ve met my bonded, Red Alert.” The seeker shot an easy smile at the Lamborghini.

“Yes, I have. And I would like to thank you, Red, for not blowing my cover with the Negavator incident. And for the extra...help you gave me.”

“It was no problem, Starscream.” Skyfire looked from his friend to his lover, confused.

“What am I missing here?” Red Alert looked at him mate, and said,

“When you asked me why I faked glitching after I recovered when Megatron attacked us to get the Negavator and I told you that I couldn’t tell you at that time, it was because Starscream asked me not to. When he found me he was able to talk me down to the point where I could make sense of things again, and then explained who he was. Of course, I thought it was a trick, but I put that aside given the dire situation. We knew it would be a danger to the Autobot cause, and given my reaction it was bound to cause waves when I returned to the Ark. So we worked out a plan to destroy the machine and save my reputation. I pretended to be glitching to give me an excuse to be with Starscream when we broke into the unit. Of course I watched his every move, but he was telling the truth and did no more than what we agreed to. When Megatron showed up, as we knew he would, Starscream distracted him so that I could destroy the machine. He shot me to prevent Megatron from taking his rage out on me and diverted it to himself instead. 

“And the extra help?” Skyfire was amused. He had a pretty good idea what it was. Seekers were notoriously promiscuous creatures. Sexual desire was woven so deep into their core programs that even they did not know when or where the programming had developed. It just was. Skyfire himself had helped Starscream relieve some of that built up tension on deep space voyages. He didn’t love his friend as more than just that: a friend. But at the same time, he didn’t want to see the seeker in pain. He couldn’t begrudge his mate for helping Starscream if that was the case. Now if had been someone else on the other hand... well there was no point in considering that, as Red would never cheat.

Starscream smiled.

“He was very good at it. Shame though. We didn’t have time to do more than just jerk each other off.” Skyfire snorted.

“You’re not usually so crude.”

“Yes, well, you spend several hundred thousand millennia with a bunch of brutes who would kill you in the middle of interfacing, or turn you in, either way, and come back and tell me that you’re not horny all the time.”

“Aw, poor Star.” The bondmates exchanged a wicked grin. “Would you like some help now?” Starscream’s look shifted from exasperated to sensual.

“Lead the way."


	2. They say good things come in threes

Starscream moaned loudly. Skyfire’s spike felt so good, stretching him wide with every thrust. He had forgotten how his friend’s shaft could reach every sensor in his valve, and the friction, oh Primus the friction was divine. To make things even better, Red Alert was bouncing on his spike, tight, slick walls gripping him as the smaller mech moved. 

Skyfire pulled out and thrust back in hard, revelling in the pleasure racing through his circuits. It was obvious that Star hadn’t interfaced in vorns; the shuttle couldn’t remember him ever being so tight. His optics trailed over his friend’s body, and he purred at the sight. His beloved mate was ‘facing himself on Starscream’s spike, purple lubricant dripping down from his valve to stain Starscream’s thighs. The sounds of ecstasy escaping Red’s vocalizer were gorgeous. Starscream was flat on his back, legs spread wide to accommodate Skyfire. Sky blue hands pawed at the seeker’s wings as the flyer tried to stave off overload. Well, that just wouldn’t do. 

Red Alert cried out as Sky picked up the pace, shoving Starscream into his valve even harder. He twisted around as he rode the mech, watching his bonded face as he fucked them both. Glancing down, he couldn’t help but stare at the junction where Skyfire’s spike plunged into Starscream’s tasty looking valve. The white metal glistened with lubricant as it withdrew, drawing a disappointed moan from their other lover. Red licked his lips. He knew that Star’s spike was covered in his own fluids too. He would have to see about cleaning them up later. Needing something to do with his mouth, the red and white mech turned back and kissed the Ops agent harshly. The seeker kissed back, nipping at Red’s glossa as it invaded his mouth, before sucking on it gently. Red Alert groaned. Starscream tasted sweetly exotic, and the move to kiss him had pressed the flyer’s spike deeper into his valve. Both sensations threatened to overwhelm him. Then Starscream brushed against a bundle of nerves deep in his valve, and he screamed as stars whited out his vision. 

Starscream cried out as Skyfire increased the tempo, thrusting almost violently into him valve. Red was tightening around him almost spastically, and he knew he was close to losing it. He dug his fingers into his wings, tearing at the delicate metal. The line of pain served to distract him, and made the pleasure a little more intense. It helped to keep him grounded, but it wouldn’t for long. He was so lost in bliss that he didn’t notice as Red took hold of his hands. It came as a surprise when he found that his arms had been pinned above his head. The lambo smirked at him.

“Sorry Stars,” Skyfire panted, “no cheating.” His friend timed his next thrust just as Red sank down and the resulting waves of ecstasy sent him screaming over the edge. 

\----------

Starscream was pleasantly warm when he awoke, pleasurable tingles still racing through his circuitry. He lay there for a moment, savouring the relaxed feeling and warmth. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so content. As his processor began to come fully online his audios picked up what sounded like soft moans. Onlining his optics, he searched for his berthmates. It didn’t take long to find them. They were settled at the end of the berth. Skyfire’s legs were spread wide, allowing Red Alert to nestle in between them. The white shuttle had arched his back, and tossed his head back, large hands holding his partner’s head between his legs. Red Alert was making obscene sucking sounds, and though he could not see it, Starscream had a pretty good idea what he was doing. It turned him on instantly, and he immediately moved to find a better place to watch the show. He settled down a ways away from the pair, watching as Red Alert swallowed half of Sky’s massive shaft. He moaned, remembering the feeling of that delectable spike buried deep inside him. His hand drifted down to his own spike, pumping it in time with Red Alert’s suckling. The whimper drew Skyfire’s attention, and he smirked at his friend. Red Alert, not liking that he had lost ‘Fire’s attention, doubled his efforts. The shuttle’s optics darkened further as Red worked. Starscream could feel his systems overheating. He pumped himself faster, imagining Red’s lips around him, sucking him off. Lubricant glistened on the lambo’s lips and dribbled down his chin, enticing their voyeur even further. 

Skyfire groaned. He loved it when his mate went down on him; Red had such a talented mouth. Wet heat engulfed him over and over, and it was all he could do not to lose it. It had been such a pleasant way to wake up. Vaguely, he was aware that Starscream had woke up and was watching them avidly, but it wasn’t until he heard his friend moan that he focused on him. Star was watching them, optics a deep indigo color as his hand moved over his spike. Typical Star. He would never admit it, but the seeker loved to watch. He could get off on watching Skyfire pleasure himself. Secretly, the larger mech had always thought it was cute. Then Red Alert increased his suction and he lost all coherent thought. All that mattered was that wonderful mouth that was sucking on him so deliciously. 

Red Alert had been aware of Starscream since he had come out of recharge. He knew the seeker had moved to watch them, and he had done his best to put on a good show. Not that it was difficult. Tasting his lover was one of his favourite things to do, especially when they first awoke. Keeping half an optic on their berthmate, Red Alert focused on taking as much of his lover into his mouth as he could. He could taste faint traces of Starscream’s lubricant on his mate’s spike. He purred, making sure to lick up every drop. He noticed that Sky’s attention had shifted to the lovely show that Star was putting on. It was a gorgeous show; the seeker was watching them contently as he stroked his own spike and fondled his cockpit. Smirking, Red Alert relaxed his throat and took Sky’s entire length into his mouth. His lover cried out, trying not to thrust. He was getting close to the edge. Excited, the lambo sucked harder, preparing for the white mech’s overload. 

Damn. That was HOT. The petite flyer watched as his friend’s mate deep throated him, causing said friend to writhe. He watched, unable to remain still, as Red continued to satisfy Sky. He could feel his own overload approaching, and cried out in tandem with Skyfire as he screamed. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the deep space flyer to recover. Then two sets of predatory optics turned towards the writing seeker. A moment later they descended. Warm, wet heat wrapped around his plug, playful glossa treating him like a rust stick. Large white hands pawed at his wings, searching out sensors and tweaking sensitive ailerons. Starscream arched up, trying to get more of those wonderful touches. 

Pulling one hand away from the oh-so-sensitive wings, Sky wrapped it around Red, pumping him in time to his oral ministrations. Both the seeker and car were so wound up that it didn’t take long for bliss to overcome them. Skyfire thought both of his lovers were gorgeous. Star’s optics went white and his face twisted in delight as he released lubricants into Red’s hungry mouth. The Lamborghini drank them down, riding out his own overload. All three collapsed in a sticky, sated pile of limbs. Starscream broke the silence. 

“Frag. You two are something else.” The other two chuckled.

“Thank you,” they said at the same time. Giggling, Star burrowed further into the mech pile, preparing to go into recharge. Sure, it was the morning cycle, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be.

“Jazz to Starscream.” Or not. The spy groaned. 

“Starscream here.” 

“Prime wants ta see ya man. At your earliest convenience, he said.” Looking down at the mess on his chassis, Starscream sighed. 

“Give me two breems.”

“I’ll relay that.” The bots could hear the smirk in Jazz’s voice. 

“Nosy fragger.” Melodic laughter was his only response before the comm. link cut off. Ruefully he turned to his friends. He could see the amusement in their optics as Skyfire gestured to a door tucked into a corner of the room.

“Washracks are through there,” he said, making himself comfortable against his mate. Red Alert was already halfway into recharge. Skyfire wasn’t too far behind him. Shaking his head, the seeker extracted himself from the pile and headed to wash off. By the time he emerged his friends were curled against each other, deep in recharge.

\----------

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Starscream had waited to be noticed, but Prime was immersed in data pads and had completely shut out the rest of the world. To his credit, the Autobot commander hid his surprise at the interruption well.

“Ah, Starscream. I apologize. I seem to have lost track of the time.”

“So I see,” the petite mech said, eying the stacks of data pads on the Prime’s desk. “Are you doing all of these by yourself sir?”

“Yes. Normally I have Prowl to help me, but he’s currently on medical leave, so I have taken over his share. Never mind that though. I need you to write a comprehensive report based on the information you gathered during your time on the Nemesis. I assume that you have already submitted reports to Jazz from your pre-earth time undercover?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well, please limit your report to the time of our reactivation on Earth then.”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well. You’re dismissed.” Starscream saluted. Instead of leaving, however, he tentatively asked,

“Would you like some help, sir? I did a fair amount of the paperwork on the Nemesis – it was split between me and Soundwave – so I can look over the reports if you wish. Not the vital ones, I know you don’t trust me enough for that,” the Prime looked faintly guilty at that, but Starscream just smiled gently, “I can deal with the non-vital ones.” Optimus looked like he was going to refuse, but thought better of it. 

“Thank you, Starscream. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

“It’s no problem at all, sir.” He moved fluidly around the desk, settling down beside Optimus. “Where should I start?” For joors they worked, Optimus handling all of the high level reports while delegating the lower priorities to his newest flyer. The entire time Starscream talked, mostly about his time spent with the cons, but he occasionally deviated and spoke of the planets that he and Sky had visited as a scientist. Prime didn’t notice at first, but gradually the seeker’s grating voice became less so. In fact the more he spoke the more it seemed to level into a smooth alto tone. Eventually there was no hint of a rasp in the once screechy voice. Curiously, he asked what had happened. Starscream laughed. 

“This is my original voice. The screech you are used to is actually a modification I had installed before I went over to the cons. Perceptor made it – though he didn’t know it was for me. Anyway, it’s installed just above my vocalizer, and scrambles the vibrations to produce a screech. Jazz, Sentinel and I figured it would be best to disassociate myself from the neutral scientist I was known as before the war. Megatron is no fool; he never would have bought it if he thought I was a pacifist. Changing my physical appearance and sound was a good way to start. This isn’t my original paint job either; I used to be a snowy white color with red accents. Anyway, the mod needs to be recalibrated before the screech will come back. And if you don’t mind sir, I much prefer using my real voice.” Optimus let out a deep laugh. “What’s funny sir?”

“I’m just thinking of the reactions you’re going to get when the rest of the crew hears you.” Starscream laughed at that too.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, this will be fun.”

“Try to leave them some sanity, please. I do need them to run this ship.” Starscream’s grin was evil. 

“I’ll do my best sir, but I can’t make any promises.” Optimus chuckled, reaching for another report. He faltered momentarily as his back struts seized up, causing a twinge of pain in his shoulders. If Starscream was any other mech he would not have noticed. But the seeker had survived by making sure he knew everything that was going on around him. Prime’s flinch, although almost imperceptible, was immediately noticed. Calmly the seeker stood and moved to stand behind the commander. 

“Sir, your shoulder and back struts have seized. I can work the tension out for you if you want.” He gave the Prime no time to disagree, nimble fingers already searching out tense and knotted cables. 

Even if Optimus had wanted to protest he couldn’t have. Those clever digits felt so good digging under his plating. Cables he hadn’t even realized were tense began to relax, and slowly he melted into the spy’s hold.

“You know, sir, you should take a break every once in a while. All of this stress is bad for you.”

“So Ratchet tells me,” the leader said wryly. Starscream simply kneaded his shoulders harder. They said nothing for a while, and Optimus found himself slipping into a light recharge. Starscream was warm, pressed against his back like that, and he hadn’t had much time to recharge lately... Long sharp claws dug into a particularly sensitive nerve bundle, jerking him awake. It took all of his will power not to moan. Why had? Those devious claws brushed past it again, causing him to arch up into the touch. Embarrassed, he tried to pull away, but the seeker would not let him go. 

“Relax, My Lord, it is not uncommon to feel pleasure during this. You have no need to be embarrassed.” Optimus was aware that this was on the boarder of becoming improper, and logic dictated that he pull away. His body disagreed, however, and he found himself staying put as Starscream continued his ministrations. 

The spy continued to trail his fingers along the Prime’s back, making sure to thoroughly work out all of the kinks. He could feel the mech shiver under his touches, and those vibrations were beginning to warm his own plating. Resolutely, he kept working, trying to keep his mind out of the gutter. He was not here to seduce his leader, no matter how tempting the thought was. He did his best to ignore the little moans that escaped from Optimus, hoping that Skyfire and Red Alert would help him out when he was done here. So lost in trying to distract himself he didn’t notice as the Prime moved. He found himself pinned to the desk, datapads shoved to the side. 

“Forgive me, Starscream, I did not realize that this was arousing you too.” The dark seductive tone trailed over him, making his wings twitch in pleasure. 

“I-It’s no problem sir. You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.” The Prime just smiled, retracting his mask. He bent down slowly, giving Starscream plenty of time to pull away if he didn’t want this. The seeker did no such thing, instead arching up when Optimus’ lips made contact with his neck cables. The larger mech purred, glossa delving in between the cables, pausing now and then to nip at the wires before soothing them. At the same time his hands trailed down to the wings framing the seeker’s petite body, exploring them gently. Star, still sensitive from his romp the night before with his friends, pressed up into the touch, crying out wantonly. 

The small mech did not take it lying down, however. He gave as good as he got, searching out his temporary lover’s sweet spots with a single minded ruthlessness. He found that the antennae on either side of his head were particularly receptive, and he amused himself for several kliks coaxing reactions out of his leader by playing with them. Leaning up, he took one into his mouth, suckling softly while his hands explored Optimus’ grill. The groan that the red and blue mech let out sent vibrations through his cockpit and into his spark, prompting him to cry out in return. Prime took advantage of his momentary lapse, pulling away slightly. Star tried to pull him back; put large hands batted away his own gently. Once he was sure that the seeker would lie still, the powerful servos dipped down to play with the cockpit. The caresses weren’t exploratory, they were searching for something. Starscream knew what he was going for, but in his current state he couldn’t remember what it was. A moment later Optimus found the clasps that opened his cockpit, and Starscream ceased to think. 

Optimus wasted no time in playing with the controls that were now available to him. He had heard rumors of seekers’ sensitivity to the cockpit, and had wondered if that extended to the controls. He had his answer: it most certainly did. Star writhed and thrashed beneath him, torn between pressing into and getting away from the deliciously tortuous touches. Prime shifted his weight to keep the flyer pinned as he explored. He could feel the heat emanating from the spy’s chassis. It wouldn’t be long until overload claimed him. The large mech doubled his efforts. He wanted to watch Starscream’s face as the little mech came. 

Sohotsohotsohot! Too much! It was too much. He tried to hold back, he really did, but the fire racing though him was too strong. Star came with a scream. Overload cascaded though his systems, and he twisted against Optimus’ trying to press up into that lovely warm heat, even as he fell headlong into ecstasy. Optimus watched as the seeker’s optics went white, before darkening as he slipped into recharge. The sight was almost enough to trigger his own overload, but he couldn’t quite reach it. Instead he contented himself with petting the seeker’s wings while he waited for him to reboot. 

Starscream came online to the soft touches. He moaned softly. That had been an amazing overload, and the Prime hadn’t even touched his interface equipment. Nor had he nor had he overloaded. That wouldn’t do. He set about to rectify the problem. He had the larger mech’s codpiece open before the Prime realized he had recovered. A thick, luscious cable greeted him, and he shivered, imagining what it would feel like inside him.

“You haven’t had your turn yet, My Lord.” He wrapped a hand around the massive length. His small fist could only cover half of it, but it was enough to cause Optimus to groan and pump into his fist. “Would you like to take me?” He retracted his codpiece, displaying his shimmering wet valve to the Prime’s hungry optics. “I’m yours if you want me. And already prepared; you don’t need to go slow.” The Autobot’s legendary control snapped. It had been far, far too long since he had last done this, and Starscream was spread open so invitingly. With one powerful stroke he buried himself in the enticing valve. 

Starscream gasped as he was penetrated. It felt so, so, so good! There really was no other word for it. Optimus’ thick spike touched every sensor in his valve, stretching the flexible walls to their limit. He bucked up, trying to take more, deeper, harder faster. He sobbed when large hands held his hips still. He wanted to move, damn it!

“Ah, ah, Star, let’s not get carried away.” Then the leader began to move. Deep powerful thrusts opened him, nearly splitting him in half. He cried out every time that delicious cable pulled out, even if it was just a few inches. Every penetration felt like the Matrix. He even forgot about the hands holding him still and just let the Prime do what he wanted to.

Starscream was so tight. His valve was perfect, hot and wet, and he knew that he wouldn’t last long. Controlling Star’s hips he thrust in forcefully, over and over. His pleasure rose higher and higher, and as that sweet valve began to clench around him he peaked, spilling his lubricant into the awaiting port. His partner cried out, his body twisting in bliss as his second overload of the day raked though him.

For a moment they lay there, systems and paint popping as their bodies cooled. Prime was careful to keep his weight from crushing the slim seeker. Both were content to remain where they were. In a few moments they would have to get up and get back to work, and Starscream would leave for his training with Jazz. But for now there was no reason to move. 

“Thank you, Starscream.” 

“You’re welcome, Optimus. I trust you feel better?” A sardonic grin quirked the corner of the Prime’s mouth before the faceplate snapped back into place. 

“Much.”


	3. See Starscream. See Starscream proposition an officer

Starscream sat in the Ops briefing room, along with Bumblebee, Jazz and Mirage. It had been a long time since he had last worked with an Autobot team. That thought sent a pang through his spark. For a long time now his team, his trine, had been Thundercracker and Skywarp. He felt guilty for deceiving them for so long, and then fleeing. He had come to care for them both very much, and he hated that he had had to abandon them. There was no choice though. Skywarp was very loyal to Megatron, and though Thundercracker did not agree with the Decepticons on many points he would never have left his mate, even in Starscream had asked him to come. He did his best to push thoughts of them from his mind. He had other things to deal with now.

Jazz began the meeting by introducing Starscream to the others. Mirage and Bumblebee probably didn’t trust him, but they didn’t let on. Starscream approved. He would have no problems with them; they were too professional to let their personal feelings interfere with the mission.

“So Star, what do you have for us?” Starscream pulled out three diskettes, each containing a copy of all the pertinent information he had from his time with the Decepticons. He then pulled out a master copy and slipped it into the projector. 

“This is all of the intel I have on the Decepticons. It has everything from access codes to current plans, to basic information on each and every warrior they have. By now, they’ll have changed all of the access codes, but if your tacticians go through it carefully enough they may find a common pattern. I haven’t had time to study it myself, but I am sure there is one. Likewise, they’ll have scrapped some of these projects, or altered them so that I can’t give you the details, but only if they haven’t all ready started them. Otherwise they’ll have put too much time and energy – not to mention supplies – into them. These,” he gestured at the screen, are the ones that he is likely to keep on course, while these,” the screen flickered, “are the ones that he’ll get rid of. I’ve added my thoughts on what he’ll likely do with the plans he discards, but keep in mind that the slagger is capable of surprising me.”

“What about priority?” Bumblebee asked. “Which projects will he be likely to be rushing to get done?” 

“I’ve included a list in subsection twelve of the ten projects that I believe he is most likely going to place priority on. Some of them are fairly harmless, and focus more on ways to convert various materials into low grade energon, while others are highly dangerous weapons. I’ve included the design specs of most of them, but there were a few that I did not have access to.” For the next six hours, earth time, the Ops team poured over Starscream’s data. If they had to say one thing for the seeker, it was that he was through. Each section of the diskette was divided into categories such as projects, armory, soldier info, and more. He also had sections filled with information he thought that the Tactical Division should have, information that the Prime needed to see, and maps and design specs for Special Ops only. He even had gathered a list of basic information he thought that every member of the crew should have access to. Jazz took in all the data, already working on composing mission plans and determining how to distribute the other information. 

“Thank you Starscream. You have no idea how valuable all of this is. We may have a good chance at breaking this stalemate now.”

“I do have one other thing I need to mention. It’s a project of Shockwave’s that not even Megatron knows about.”

“Oh?” Jazz’s visor brightened. Starscream switched the projector’s view from its current graph to the image of a golden seeker. He was identical to Starscream in almost every way; only the paint job was different. 

“This is Sunstorm. I am not sure how, but I believe by studying my medical data, and from the one time he repaired me, Shockwave was able to harvest enough of my code to have me cloned. I discovered this information by chance the last time I was on Cybertron. Sunstorm, besides being my identical twin, also has the ability to harness the power of radiation. He was missing a piece of my coding, and at the time had absolutely no control over it. We managed to fix that problem, and he still pretends that he cannot control it so that he does not have to fight for the Decepticons. Shockwave keeps him caged in his secondary lab, and uses him for experiments. I believe he is trying to create an army of me.” Starscream sighed. “I consider him to be my brother, and I cannot leave him in Shockwave’s hands. He will not survive much longer. I would like to request that I be assigned to retrieve him.”

“Denied.” Jazz held up a hand to prevent Starscream from arguing. “Sorry Star, but you’re the Cons’ number one target right now. I agree that we can’t leave him with Shockwave, but you’re not going. Give me all of the information you have on that particular lab, and I’ll see about rigging up some kind of plan to get your brother back.” Starscream smiled, relieved.

“Thanks Jazz.” 

“No problem.”

“Something about this bothers me.” Starscream was surprised to hear Mirage speak. For the duration of the meeting the spy had stayed silent, preferring to listen rather than question. “Why doesn’t Megatron know about this?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I found no information about why Sunstorm was created when I searched the lab. I think it might be because he’s considered a failed experiment, but I can’t say for sure. 

“Well mech, we did good today. We’re not going to get anything else done now, so get outta here. Reconvene tomorrow at thirteen hundred hours. Dismissed.”

\----------

Starscream sat alone in the Rec Room, calmly sipping his energon. Optimus had been right; the reaction to his change in voice had been hilarious. One of the minibots – Gears? – had tried to pick a fight with him, and when he had calmly responded with his old voice the entire Rec Room had gone silent. Even the chatty gunner had been speechless. They left him alone now, occasionally shooting him suspicious glances. He really wasn’t bothered by it. He had known, so many vorns ago when he suggested the mission, that this was how he would be welcomed back. Besides, Autobot glares had nothing on what the Decepticons were capable of when they were angry. He could think of only a handful of mechs that did not openly despise him. Red and Skyfire, Obviously, along with the Aerialbots who seemed to have some kind of hero worship thing going, the Prime, the Ops team, and Prowl. Everyone else seemed   
to be unable to put aside their hostility. He honestly couldn’t blame them. 

Speaking of Prowl, he had asked the mech to meet him so he could hand over the Tactical Files he had for Prowl’s mechs. He would have gone to his office, but Prowl, for once, was actually off duty, so they were going to meet here instead. He glanced up at the door just as Prowl entered the room. There was a strange tension about him, one that Starscream was achingly familiar with. Blue optics settled on the flyer, and the SIC swiftly made his way over to Starscream. 

“Ah Prowl. Thank you for meeting with me. He held up a small cache of diskettes for the second to see. “These contain tactical knowledge that your department might find useful.” Prowl accepted the chips. 

“Thank you Starscream. I am sure they will be invaluable. Did you need anything else?”  
“Not really. I was just thinking that Praxian heat must be uncomfortable.” The seeker made sure to keep his voice low. Prowl’s already tense doorwings hiked up higher. 

“I do not know what you mean.” Starscream cocked a brow ridge. 

“Uh huh. Prowl, I’m a seeker. We live in a state of semi-permanent heat. And while Praxians do not have enough of the seeker code to be as insatiable as we are, that does not mean that I cannot recognize a heat cycle when I see one.” Prowl glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“It is highly inappropriate to proposition a senior officer,” he said stiffly. I could have you thrown in the brig.”

“Who’s propositioning? I was merely stating a fact.” He stood from the table, gathering up his empty cube as he did so. “Keep in mind though, if you are afraid of losing face in front of the troops and need help, well I’m not really in a position to judge, now, am I? Especially when one considers the state of my libido.” Leaving the stunned tactician behind, Starscream cheerfully left the room.

\----------

It was fairly early in the night cycle when Starscream’s door chimed. Surprised, he opened the door, only to find himself face to face with Prowl. The mech looked highly uncomfortable, both from the effects of his heat cycle and, likely, embarrassment. The seeker said nothing, simply moving to the side to allow the Datsun entrance.   
Prowl seemed to become even more tense as he stood in the seeker’s quarters. He didn’t seem to be wary of Starscream himself; more like he was uncomfortable with the situation. 

“Relax Prowl, I won’t bite,” Starscream paused. “Unless you want me to.”

“I apologize. It has been… a long time since I engaged in such activities. Starscream moved to stand next to the uptight tactician. He placed one hand on a doorwing, massaging it lightly, while his mouth claimed Prowl’s. This kiss started soft; both mechs tentatively trying to work out the other’s comfort levels. It didn’t stay that way for long. As soon as Starscream touched the joint of Prowl’s doorwing he found himself slammed against the wall as Prowl practically devoured his mouth. The smaller mech’s glossa was darting between his lips as quick as a mech snake, finding his hot spots with ease. A white hand came up to fondle his wing, while another wrapped around his waist and pulled him away from the wall.   
Starscream honestly had no idea how they made it to the berth. He had even less of an idea where in the Pit those stasis cuffs had come from, let alone when Prowl had managed to cuff his arms above his head. Nor did he really care. Not when the mech was tracing such lovely designs on his wings with his glossa. Gone was the shy, uncomfortable mech from before; Prowl was downright /kinky/ in the berth. Starscream moaned when the Datsun sucked the tip of one wing into his mouth. The warm, wet heat was maddening. Every time he twitched his wing, trying to get more of that delicious feeling, Prowl would pull away and wait until he calmed down before starting again. Just as the chained seeker though he would burst from the maddening treatment Prowl gave the wing one last lick and pulled way. The seeker damn near shrieked in frustration. 

“Prowl!” The black and white ‘bot looked at him with amusement and lust.

“Patience is a virtue, Starscream.” The flyer pulled uselessly at his bonds, wanting to put the SIC through the same torment. Prowl effectively derailed those thoughts by dragging the palm of his hand down hard on Starscream’s codpiece. 

“Open for me.” Starscream needed no more persuasion than that. Prowl eyed the erect cable with interest. Transfluid leaked from the tip, dribbling down to pool around its base. Starscream’s optics widened as Prowl straddled him, removing his own codpiece. He didn’t extend his own spike; instead he settled his dripping valve over the seeker’s engorged length.

Starscream did his best not to simply thrust into that tight, inviting heat. It was so hard not to. Prowl obviously hadn’t used his valve in a very long time. The carformer sank down slowly, giving himself time to adjust to the seeker’s girth. He finally seated himself fully on the cable. He sat still for a few moments, before tentatively shifting his hips. Both mechs moaned. Prowl moved slowly at first, getting used to being filled once again. Abruptly, he thrust down hard, taking all of Starscream’s cable at once. Starscream shrieked. From then on it was a blur as Prowl set a hard, fast pace as he rode his lover’s cable. It was exquisite, the feeling of a hard, throbbing heat filling him, spreading him open. He groaned every time its tip brushed against that perfect little sensor in the back of his valve.

Starscream had quit thinking. All he could focus on was the sight of his cable disappearing inside Prowl as that lovely, wet, tight, perfect valve swallowed him. He fought against his chains, wanting to play with those tempting wings as they fluttered in time to their thrusting. He was mildly disappointed when he couldn’t get free. He stopped caring when Prowl cried out, face contorted with ecstasy as his hit overload. Erratic spasms wracked though his valve, triggering Starscream’s own head fall into bliss. 

By the time the seeker had come back to his senses, Prowl was already moving. Praxian heats often required several overloads before they were satisfied. This one had barely taken the edge off. As Prowl began to ride his cable once again Starscream resigned himself to a long, deliciously exhausting night. 

The newly returned Autobot was not surprised when he woke alone. Prowl had a much earlier shift, after all. He lay in his berth for a moment, remembering the previous night. If he wasn’t so spent, he could likely get off on just thinking about it. As it was, he simple shivered in pleasure, before pushing himself up. He needed to get to the washracks. He was mildly intrigued to discover the note left on his desk.

Starscream –

Thank you for your assistance last night. It was much appreciated. Do not be surprised if Smokescreen and Bluestreak seek you out. They’ve already pinged me several times this morning, enquiring about your… unique manner of assistance. I am not entirely certain how they found out, but I suspect I’ll be having words with your captain. Welcome back to the base. 

– Prowl


	4. In which serious business is discussed

Starscream twitched his wings irritably. He was a couple miles away from the Ark, having pinged his intent to Red Alert and fleeing before the Security Director could deny him. Red was going to be angry with him, but he needed some space. His spark was throbbing, begging for a bond he could never have again. He hadn't expected to find them during his time with the Decepticons. His spark had simultaneously leapt with joy and shattered into tiny pieces. They were perfect, everything he had ever wanted in a trine, but he could not have them. The mission had to come first. He would give his life for the Autobots, and they, they were loyal only to Megatron. So the deep cover seeker had decided to keep his distance. Fate however, seemed to enjoy meddling in his life. Megatron, the fool, had known that seekers flew better in threes. He had no concept of how trines were formed, only that they were unmatched in the sky. Starscream had needed to be noticed in order to get high enough in the ranks to begin sowing chaos, and so he had not hidden he talents in the sky. The warlord had noticed, and, given that two of his Elite were in need of a third, had assigned the young seeker to Thundercracker and Skywarp. None of them had been happy. Starscream, because to get attached would surely be a fatal flaw in a plan that could lead the Autobots to victory; Thundercracker and Skywarp had not liked having a snotty young upstart thrust on them. The fact that Starscream went out of his way to be as obnoxious as possible hadn't helped. His spark twinged when he thought of the cruelties he had committed against seekers who, had he met them before the war, he would have killed for to be allowed to court them. But it was irrelevant now. They knew who he was, what he was, and there was no going back. He hadn't caved during all of his time in the Decepticons, no matter how much he stupid spark had begged for him to form a bond with them, he wouldn't break now. 

"Credit for your thought?" Anyone else would have jumped, but Starscream was used to his commander popping up unannounced. 

"They are hardly worth that right now." Jazz cocked a brow ridge. It was unlike the feisty seeker to be so melancholy. 

"Regrets?" One word, but it was a loaded question. Starscream considered his words carefully.

"About the mission? No. Spending time among those monsters only solidified my belief in the Autobots. But... I met them Jazz. Flew with them." Jazz froze. He had seen Starscream fly with Thundercracker and Skywarp, but all intelligence (some from Starscream himself) pointed to an undying hatred between him and them. But Jazz knew his agent was a phenomenal actor - he wouldn't be alive otherwise.

"Tell me about it." It was an order as much as an invitation. But Starscream wanted to talk. He could discuss it with Skyfire, but he didn't think he could handle the pity his friend would try (and fail) to conceal. Jazz, however, knew that sacrifices had to be made. He would understand.

"Do you remember the conversation we had when Vos sided with Megatron?" The Special Ops Commander did. His seeker agent had gotten very, very drunk on Vosian high grade and had ended up in the medbay having his fuel tank pumped. Jazz had been furious and had torn into the seeker as soon as he was coherent. Starscream ignored him and proceeded to get drunk again as soon as he was released. He had ended up back in the medbay and then the brig, but still he had refused to talk. Again, once he was released he hit the high grade. Jazz had been beyond livid. One of his mechs was killing himself, and Jazz had no idea why.

Ordering all of his mechs out on drills guaranteed they would have the Ops simulator free. He had programmed Vos as it had looked swearing allegiance to the dictator into the machine and trapped both himself and the seeker inside. It had taken almost an orn for Starscream to break. The tricolored seeker had screamed until his voice was hoarse, shouting expletives at his simulated brethren in a mixture of languages until even the silver mech was hard pressed to decipher them. The constructions didn't flinch, they simply continued on as they had been programmed to do, perfect replicas of the victory celebration that had been broadcasted live over every channel. Finally Starscream exhausted himself, slumping to the ground gracelessly. Jazz had simply watched until his soldier finally collapsed. Then he moved to stand next to the fallen mech, face stoic. 

"Explain. Now." Everyone under his command knew that the silver mech was dangerous, but never more so then when he use short, simple commands. Starscream's response, voice defeated, was simple:

"My trine." 

"I do," Jazz answered his friend, "You said that with Vos lost you would never find your trine. That without your perfect matches you would never reach your full potential. That you were in so much pain, grieving for something you would never have."

"Yes," Starscream was pleased his commander had taken note of his words, "but that was only part of it. I told you that our sparks resonate with our matches, but because I couldn't risk enemy fliers synching with me I would build a disruptor. It only functioned partially. I recognize them as trinemates but they do not recognize me. Jazz, seekers never deny a trinebond. The few that have tried go insane trying to resist the pull. We can tolerate being alone when we don't know who we are meant for, but now that I do... in their presence it was easier to trick my spark into believing not now might mean in the future. But I can't lie to myself anymore. I will begin to deteriorate." It felt like the third in command had been sucker punched in the spark. 

"Is there anything that can be done?" Starscream smirked, but it didn't have its usual bite. 

"Multiple overloads delay it. It sends a burst of pleasure through the spark, not similar to, if not as powerful, as an overload from a spark merge. We are an open race, prone to sharing pleasure with anyone who desires it, trined or not. Frag, trines often meet up with other trines for a cycle or two of debauchery."

"Will it help stabilize you?" 

"Yes, for a time. Maybe forever. They don't recognize me, so the pull isn't as extreme as I expected. I did not survive Megatron and his sycophants to let this destroy me. I will get through this Jazz, but I need help."

"You have it," Jazz growled as reached up and pulled the seeker into a bruising kiss. Starscream gasped, allowing Jazz's slick glossa to dart into his mouth. He fought back, but the TIC was in no mood to be denied. He was furious over the fact that he could not fix Starscream's problem. He channeled that rage into subduing the battling glossa, only gentling his kiss when Starscream yielded. He pulled back slowly, and waited until pretty blue optics met his own.

"You are going to see Ratchet about this, Starscream. And Perceptor, Wheeljack, anyone one who can help negate this thing. We will not let you suffer." Starscream wanted to argue, the TIC could see it, but he wisely chose not to. Pleased, Jazz pressed soft, suckling kisses along the strong cables of the seeker's neck. The former Decepticon moaned softly, tilting his head for better access. Jazz purred, pausing to suck at the junction between neck and shoulders before biting down hard. Starscream yelped, thrashing in his hold, but calmed quickly as the saboteur soothed the mark with his glossa.

"Fragger," Starscream rasped, voice husky. Jazz chuckled and brought his hands up to play with the bright colored wings. The former Air Commander writhed, pleasure shooting from his wings straight to his spark. He brought his own talons into play, searching for sensitive seams on the smaller frame. He worked his digits into the gap between chassis and midriff, enjoying the way Jazz bucked against him. Pulling back from molesting the seeker's vulnerable neck, Jazz grinned. A moment later the flyer was on the ground, wings splayed prettily beneath him. 

"Relax Scree. Let me do all the work." Nodding, Starscream pulled his hands away and lay still, letting Jazz do as he pleased. Looking at the enticing mech spread open below him Jazz felt a twinge of regret that he couldn't do this properly. Omega Supreme would be leaving within the next four breems for Cybertron, and he had to be on that flight. But damned if he wasn't going to take care of Starscream before he left. Lying between Starscream's legs he tapped authoritatively on the seeker's panel. Star obliged, the cover sliding away to reveal his moist valve.  
Starscream moaned as that teasing glossa pressed against the rim of his slick valve. Jazz lapped at the escaping lubricants before diving in, glossa thrusting sharply into the welcoming heat. Starscream cried out, hips shimmying wildly, trying to press the invader in deeper. Strong hands clamped down on his hips, keeping him still as Jazz tasted him. Despite the time limit Jazz still wanted it to be good for his friend, so he alternated between deep strokes against flexible walls, and pulling out to lap and suckle at the rim. The constantly changing touches worked to throw Starscream's sensors into confused bliss. He valve spasmed erratically, trying to keep that lovely, tormenting glossa inside. Jazz worked a finger into Starscream, moving seamlessly with his glossa, to search for that special node deep in the valve. He knew he found it when Starscream arched up almost violently, shrieking to the skies. Smirking, Jazz doubled his assault, pressing against the node relentlessly, even as he continued to work the sensitive walls. 

Starscream had long offlined his optics in bliss, focusing only on the pleasure radiating from his valve. It soothes his spark and numbed its pull, and he cried out in pleasure and relief. When Jazz found and mercilessly assaulted that hypersensitive node he lost what little processing power he had retained and simply gave himself over to the sensation. Overload tore through him viciously, and it took him a long moment to come back to himself. Starscream felt like he was floating and was relucant to give it up. When he did Jazz was still with him, licking the last traces of lubricant from smug dermas. Starscream was ashamed to admit he had no idea if Jazz had come as well.

"What about you?" He questioned.

"I'm good, mech. As hot as that was, I have to leave for Cybertron in a breem. Wouldn't do to show up with stained plating." Aqua blue optics widened hopefully.

"You mean you're going to get -?"

"Yeah. I'll bring him back Star. Don't worry." Starscream smiled, an honest, sparkfelt smile. 

"Thanks Jazz."

"Any time, my mech."

Unnoticed by either mech as they left the dunes that had concealed them, a small avian cassette lingered for a moment before launching and disappearing over the desert.


	5. Chapter 5

"Commander Starscream, may I have a word?" Starscream looked up at the young flier, impressed when Silverbolt met his gaze. There weren't many mechs outside the seeker's friends and fellow Ops mechs who were brave enough to approach him. Many would speak in low tones as he passed but they always went quiet when his sharp optics caught their gaze. Nodding once, the former Decepticon SIC gestured for the Aerialbot to sit down. 

"Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir." Taking the seat opposite from Starscream, Silverbolt took a moment to steel his nerves. He could do this. He had promised his brothers, and Silverbolt was a good leader. He knew he didn't have the ability to bring his team's skill level up to what would be needed to win against the Decepticon fliers. So far they had survived in a larger part due to luck and, Silverbolt suspected, Starscream's mercy. But with the seeker back with the Autobots there would be no one there to reign in the more bloodthirsty fliers in a dogfight. He refused to let his brothers die, but to protect them they had to have training from the best. 

"I would like to formally request training for myself and my team in aerial combat." The Rec Room was silent. Every mech in that room had watched the young flier stride confidently up to their former enemy's table and take a seat. The Aerialbot commander they knew was timid and shy; he only ever really reacted to threats - real or not - against his brothers. Then to hear him boldly ask for training - well they didn't know what to think. Some approved; the aerial team was so very young and definitely needed training, something the grounded Autobots could not provide. Some were offended by the "traitorous" action and vowed to have words with Optimus about letting the impressionable younglings fraternize with the enemy seeker. Neither Silverbolt nor Starscream particularly cared what the others thought. This was a matter between fliers.

"I see. Why do you believe you need training, Silverbolt?" Starscream remembered being asked this very question when he had first approached his mentor. Most non-Vosians were not aware that there were protocols for choosing and accepting a mentor and student. The student always had to approach the mentor and ask to be taught, to prove that they had the courage and humility to learn. Mentors would then ask one question, which varied from seeker to seeker depending on what they were looking for in their students. How the pupil answered determined whether or not the teacher would take on the seekerling. Starscream was very interested in hearing how Silverbolt would answer. He would train them, and do it well, as part of his duties to the Autobots, but whether or not he trained them as Vosians would depend on the youngling's words. And Silverbolt had to speak for his siblings as well.  
The Concorde very seriously considered his answer. He could tell that whatever he said next would determine their future, but he didn't know how or why.  
"We need it because we can't survive on luck forever. I love my brothers, and am incredibly proud of them, but I look at the Decepticon seekers and all I can see is how narrowly Air Raid avoided a strafing run or how much worse that shot through Slingshot's wing could have been. It is well known that I have a fear of heights, and that 'Flight can be distracted by anything shiny. Skydive is a great strategist but sometimes he gets so caught up in the planning that he can't execute it properly. I will do anything to keep my brothers alive, but I have to have the ability to, and right now I don't. We don't." The entire room seemed to quit venting. No one had known how passionately the young mech had felt about his team's lack of training. Aqua optics flickered over the larger frame, coming to rest on determined icy blue.

"Be at the entrance oh five hundred. Training is going to be more brutal than anything you've dealt with, including the skirmishes you've had with the Decepticon Air Force. If you're team cannot handle it then don't bother showing up." Relief flickered across expressive faceplates before the younger flier managed to mask it. He inclined his head politely and said,

"We will be there. Thank you sir." Starscream chuckled.

"I doubt you will thank me tomorrow." An incoming ping distracted the seeker momentarily. 

::Starscream, report to the medbay immediately.:: Starscream scowled. He was tempted to ignore Ratchet, but years of dealing with Hook had taught him not to frag off the medic. Besides, Ratchet had a fearsome reputation.

Silverbolt stood when he did, waiting respectfully to be dismissed. The young leader was taking his request for training very seriously. 

"Dismissed, Silverbolt." Twitching his wings in a gesture of respect the Aerialbot turned and left the room. Starscream disposed of his half finished cube before following suite. It didn't take long to get to the medbay. Ratchet was waiting for him, along with Wheeljack and Perceptor. The CMO didn't waste any time with pleasantries; he guided his patient to a private room to begin the examination. It was exhausting. The comprehensive history wasn't too bad as Ratchet was familiar with seeker models and their sensual coding and behavior. Mostly that portion of the exam was for the science mechs' benefit and to clarify minor details. The tests themselves were much more intrusive. It started with a basic spark scan and progressed to putting his spark under different kinds of stress while continuing the scan. Then the spark scanner would be recalibrated, moved to a different angle, and the whole series would start again. Perceptor and Wheeljack, with permission, hooked into his systems to examine his coding and chemical makeup and how they responded to the stressors. The processor scan was incredibly uncomfortable, especially since the trigger stressors in these test related to Skywarp and Thundercracker. Black, sonic, jump, blue - innocent, everyday words that turned his thoughts to his former wingmates and set his spark racing. 

Three joors after the tests had begun Ratchet and his team had reached their conclusion.

"The only solution is to regularly interface," the medic told him bluntly. "The desire for trinemates is entwined so deeply with your coding that even patching it would only help temporarily. Regular interface should help sate your spark enough to keep it from seeking the others every time you think of them. But, as I am sure you are aware, you must maintain a balance between sated and exhaustion. It won't do you any good if you are too worn out to be functional." Starscream nodded in understanding. It wasn't anything he hadn't expected. The news about the patch being worthless was a little disappointing, but he could live with it.

"Will it get progressively worse, regardless of interfacing?" 

"It should not," Perceptor spoke up. He was studying a small datapad with projections of possible progressions based on Starscream's baseline information. "At least, not from a physiologic standpoint. A decline in mental acuity is likely be related to a bereft mental state that is amplified by your spark's desire for companionship."

"...So basically because I am my own greatest enemy because it will be my loneliness and desire for my trine that sends me over the edge."

"Yes, that is what I said." Starscream groaned.

"Perfect." He looked up helplessly at Ratchet. "Any advice?" Ratchet looked at him very seriously.

"Make bonds, Starscream. Friends, lovers, the student/mentor relationship with the Aerialbots - foster those. It will never replace your trine, but so long as you actively combat the destitution you feel then there is no reason that you cannot live a normal, happy life." The seeker wasn't so sure, but he could see where Ratchet was coming from.

"Thank you. Is there anything else?"

“Yes. The patch you have now, the one that prevents Skywarp and Thundercracker from acknowledging you as trine is failing. I suspect the next time you meet them they will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t recommend replacing it. I am surprised that it lasted so long without causing processor damage. It’s always incredibly risky to reroute processor functions, and to replace a block when it decayed the first time only worsens your odds of keeping your mind in take.”

“…Fraggit. I won’t be able to avoid them on the battlefield.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Starscream. Perhaps Prowl or Optimus will be able to help with that.” Starscream sighed. 

“I’ll figure something out. Can I go now?”

"Yes. You can go." 

"I'm going to go through your coding again, Starscream. If I find a way to make a patch or a block that will stick I will let you know. Feel free to stop by the lab anytime." Wheeljack looked frustrated. He was not a code specialist by any means, but he had never before run into a coding problem that either he or Ratchet couldn't fix.

"I appreciate that, Wheeljack." Starscream caught the double meaning of the last sentence; perhaps he would visit the engineer before recharge.

\----------

Wheeljack held his breath as he soldered the last wire. If it held the device would be complete, and in one piece; if not then Ratchet was going to yell at him. Again. It wasn't has though it was his fault this atmosphere had so much hydrogen in it. It reacted badly with most Cybertronian alloys, causing some rather spectacular explosions. Hmm. Maybe he should design a hydrogen proof lab. He would have to look into it when this project was finished. 

Thankfully the solder settled with no problem. Venting a sigh of relief, Wheeljack began to put away his tools. Idly glancing at his chronometer, the engineer was surprised to find that it was so late in the cycle. Shift change had come and gone; most of the day shift would already be in recharge by now. He thought about his spur-of-the-moment proposal to Starscream. The seeker had looked upset and frustrated at his diagnosis, yet resigned. It was like he had expected it, and maybe he had. Wheeljack couldn't imagine having to 'face almost every cycle just to maintain processor integrity. Not to mention the incredible turmoil he must feel spark deep. He had felt bad for the mech, and so had offered. It's not like it would be a hardship. The seeker was very attractive. Perhaps he had found other company for the night. 

Just as he finished putting his things away the chime alerted him to a presence outside the lab. Curiously, he gave the command to open the reinforced doors, and Starscream stepped into the lab.

 

"Good evening, Wheeljack. I hope I'm not disturbing you," Starscream looked very awkward standing just inside the threshold of the lab. It was clear that the Ops agent was unsure how his presence would be received. Jolted out of his stupor, Wheeljack grinned, headfins flashing brightly. 

"Hi Starscream. Come on in. I was just finishing up for the cycle." Gracefully, Starscream moved further into the lab. Wheeljack ran his optics over the sleek form with appreciation. Turning to face the other Autobot, the brightly colored mech admitted,

"I am not quite sure where to go from here." Wheeljack was able to infer that Starscream was referring to Wheeljack's knowledge about his condition. This wasn't a normal seduction. Wheeljack smiled gently and took Starscream's hand.

"Why don't we start by moving to the berthroom?" The flyer allowed himself to be led to a small room off of the main lab. It was relatively spartan, with only a large berth and a single shelf with datapads and various trinkets strewn across it. There was also a partially hidden chest sticking out from under the berth. It was open, and Starscream could see... was that a dildo? And those had to be energon cuffs. Beside him Wheeljack stiffened in embarrassment. 

"I forgot to put that away." The smaller mech moved to hide the chest, but a hand on his arm stopped him. 

"There is no need to," abashed optics met aqua blue, which had darkened almost to indigo with hunger. Any shyness on Starscream's part was gone - now the seeker looked predatory. Wheeljack went lax. It had been a long time since he'd had a partner willing to indulge in his fetish. 

Firming his grip on his companion, Starscream guided the mech up onto the berth. He arranged the engineer so that he was leaning against the headboard, with a good view of what Starscream had planned next. 

"Stay there," he ordered, and Wheeljack shivered at the dark tone. The seeker retrieved the chest and placed it on the foot of the berth. Settling beside it, he looked up at his partner and very  
seriously said,

"I am going to give you some words, Wheeljack. Remember them. Yellow flag means you are uncomfortable with something. I will stop, and we will discuss what is causing your discomfort and if you wish to continue. Red flag means whatever is happening is beyond your limits. I will stop immediately, and we will not revisit it again. If you are not able to speak you will tap the berth twice for yellow flag and three times for red flag. Do you understand?" Starscream had played these games before, and was very protective of the mechs he played them with. He had had some partners who had no concept of their limits, or how to say they had reached them. He would not harm his comrade, and so he made sure that the engineer knew he had a way out.

"I understand," Wheeljack croaked. The seductive twist of Starscream's lips at the answer made him burn even hotter.

"Good." The Ops mech began removing toys from the chest, examining them thoroughly, while making sure to note how Wheeljack reacted to each one. "Well now, this looks interesting," Starscream said, stroking a long, silky strip of organic material. The Lancia eyed to blindfold with anticipation. 

Getting to his knees, the seeker prowled on all fours towards his willing captive. Reaching his target he pressed their mouths together in a slow, sensual kiss. Pulling away, he covered Wheeljack's optics with the blindfold, winding it around each headfin before securing it in the back. Then he guided the blindfolded mech to lie on his back and captured each hand, pressing soft kisses to the wrists before binding them to the headboard. Finally, watching carefully for a negative reaction, Starscream pressed a ring gag to plump dermas. Wheeljack opened willingly, glossa darting out to explore the toy. A moment later the gag was secure and Starscream sat back to admire his handiwork. 

"You look divine, Wheeljack, spread out and bound for my pleasure. I can do anything I want to you, and you can't see it coming. But you like that, don't you? You like being helpless, out of control... oh, what's this?" the bigger mech purred as he flicked on a rather large vibrator. Wheeljack shivered at the sound. "We'll definitely have to play with that later. But what should we start with? Ah, I know." searching through the pile of toys, Starscream quickly located an innocuous looking ring. He tapped on the Lancia's codpiece and was pleased when it immediately snapped open to reveal a hard spike and wet port. Sliding the spike ring down over the erect spike, Starscream made sure it was nestled at the base before turning it on. The band immediately constricted, causing Wheeljack to groan and buck against the tormenting pressure. Satisfied that the engineer wouldn't be able to overload with the inhibiting band on  
Starscream trailed a finger down from the spike to tease the rim of the valve. 

"Not quite wet enough, Wheeljack. Let's fix that." Leisurely searching though the pile of toys, dark optics lit up with glee at discovering a slender silver rod. Turning it on, the seeker was pleased when it vibrated gently. It wasn't much, the soft pulsation was merely a tease, but the rod was slender enough to be inserted between gaps in the armor. The vibrations would oscillate against the underlying protoform, causing rarely touched sensors to overload with sensation.

Trailing the toy over one cheek, Starscream slipped the toy in through the opening in the gag, pressing the vibrating road against Wheeljack's glossa.

"Feel this, 'Jack? I bet you know what it is." Wheeljack moaned in agreement, valve quivering at the thought of the intense pleasure the toy would cause. 

Moving the toy down to the engineer's chassis, Starscream let it linger on the external plating for a moment. The faint vibrations tingled pleasantly, and Wheeljack whined in anticipation. The spy watched his lover squirm for a moment longer, before pressing the rod into the seams where leg met pelvis. Wheeljack shrieked, and tried to push against the maddening sensation but Starscream pulled the toy away. He waited until the other Autobot was still and his vents were mostly under control before working the baton into a wrist joint. When the white and green mech began thrashing the seeker once again pulled away.

Starscream continued to play in this manner, winding the smaller mech up before cutting the stimulation, all the while keeping a sharp optic on Wheeljack's comfort. The Lancia was lost in pleasure, and showed no signs of distress, so Starscream upped his game. A delicate hand dropped down to play with the exposed interface components. At the same time he lay the vibrating baton flat against the armor plating hiding Wheeljack's spark. It was clear the carformer wanted to writhe against the stimulation but he laid still, trembling with the effort. If he had reacted Starscream would have pulled away. It was the nature of this particular game.

"Much better, Wheeljack," Starscream purred as he easily slipped two digits into his partner. Dropping the baton, the jet continued to torment the dripping valve as he blindly groped for the previously discarded vibrator. Once he was sure the smaller mech was fully stretched he pushed the bulbous head of the toy into the slick valve and turned it on. Then, with one smooth thrust he buried the vibrating spike in Wheeljack's tight heat. Leaning up, he pressed a chaste kiss to stretched dermas as the CEO thrashed beneath him. Trailing kisses over the brightly lit helmfins, the seeker growled,

"Close your panel." It took a moment for dazed dermas to clear enough to understand the command. When the words registered Wheeljack shot Starscream a surprised, slightly reluctant look. After a long moment he obeyed, trapping the toy inside him. 

Sliding sensuously down his bound partner’s frame, Starscream made sure to keep optic contact with his lover. Plush lips hovered over the erect spike, giving Wheeljack a moment to comprehend what Starscream was planning. An inquisitive glossa lapped at the beads of transfluid leaking from the tip. Starscream savored the taste, moving to take the head of the straining member into his mouth. 

Wheeljack was beyond thought, straining against his bonds in ecstasy. All he could think about was that sensual mouth on his spike. The jet gripped his partner's hips, pressing them into the berth as he took his partner further into his mouth. He took his time, tracing the underside with his glossa and alternating between powerful suction and gentle, teasing licks. Finally his lips pressed against the spike ring and Starscream hummed with satisfaction. Wheeljack screamed behind his gag, back arching off the berth. The seeker kept up the vibrations for a moment longer before pulling back to watch. The engineer was exquisite; intelligent optics had darkened to indigo with bliss, helmfins flashing through a prism of colors, plump lips stretched taut around the ring gag... Wheeljack was desire incarnate. Starscream's spike pressed painfully against his codpiece, but he didn't open it. Not yet.

It took Wheeljack a long moment to recover from the dry overload. He had never experienced anything like it before! He floated blissfully, pleasurable tremors wracking his frame. Gradually the Lancia became more aware, and the vibrating toy in his valve and throbbing spike demanded his attention. He writhed against the tormenting vibrations, and sought out Starscream with his optics, ready to beg if needed. The former Decepticon SIC was still lying between his splayed legs, watching him with a soft expression.

"Can you handle more?" Wheeljack nodded frantically. "Good. Open your panel." The engineer couldn't have disobeyed if he had tried. The panel retracted and Starscream quickly removed the still buzzing toy. He opened his own codpiece, groaning in relief as he spike was finally freed. Although tempting, the seeker decided against continuing to tease his lover. Wheeljack had certainly had enough of it, and their earlier play hadn't left Starscream unaffected. So, wasting no time, he line up and thrust into the hot valve. Wheeljack screamed and bucked against him. Starscream set a fast pace, loving the silky tightness surrounding him. Knowing he wasn't going to last long - he was too worked up - Starscream lifted Wheeljack's hips and changed the angle, searching for the ceiling node. He smirked in triumph when he found it - Wheeljack threw his head back, so overwhelmed he couldn't scream – and the seeker aimed for that spot every thrust, slamming into it over and over. Starscream moved one hand to release the band constricting the smaller mech's spike. Wheeljack couldn't hold back the processor blowing overload that rocked through him. His valve clamped down on the invading spike, throwing Starscream into his own overload. Hot transfluid rushing against his ceiling node prolonged the engineer's, and he blacked out.

Burning bands of fire raced through Starscream. The hot, vice-like valve squeezing him combined with the picture Wheeljack made in the throes of ecstasy flooded him with gratification and his spark settled down, sated for now. Carefully, he pulled out of his spent partner. They had made quite a mess, and he didn't want to leave the other lying in a wet berth, so he headed into the lab to find cleaning supplies. A moment later he returned, and set to work. He started by removing freeing Wheeljack's arms and cleaning and putting the toys away. Then he moved on to wiping down his friend and himself (it would take a trip to the cleanser to really get clean, but this would do for now) before moving onto the berth. Finally finished, he put the supplies to the side. Looking up he was surprised to find hazy blue optics, dim with exhaustion, watching him. Wheeljack said nothing; he simply stretched out a hand and waited. After a moment's hesitation the Ops agent allowed himself to be pulled onto the berth. Settling down, he wrapped an arm around Wheeljack and let the engineer curl into him. A breathless "thank you" was whispered against his neck before the Lancia dropped back into recharge. Setting his internal alarm, Starscream quickly followed him.


End file.
